


canned heat

by CypressSunn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 03:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19054303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CypressSunn/pseuds/CypressSunn
Summary: Kyle swipes at the sweat re-accumulating on his brow. It trickles down the back of his neck. Alex is most definitely not watching.





	canned heat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grapecase](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapecase/gifts).



> Flash fiction written and for a tumblr writing meme.  
> Original prompt: _Kylex: ~~High School~~  vs Stuck in the Detox Dungeon._

_"_ _Stuck between hell and high water,_  
_I need a cure to make it through_ _"  _  
 _— Jamiroquai._

 

 

 

It’s an old building. Generations in the Valenti family before the keys wound up in Alex’s pocket. The need for secrecy kept the basement compartment hard to renovate, hard to maintain. That’s why when the hatch falls closed and seals itself shut, they really can’t do much besides sit on their hands and thank the stars they still have cell service.

“Why is it so hot,” Kyle complains while they wait for the fourteenth time.

“Because it’s New Mexico,” Alex scoffs, watching Kyle pace back. “You know, a desert?”

“I don’t need a lesson in geography, Manes,” Kyle’s voice echos in the small space. “We’re underground! Heat rises! It should be naturally cooler.” Kyle swipes at the sweat re-accumulating on his brow. It trickles down the back of his neck. Alex is most definitely not watching.

“Sit down and stop pacing, for starters.”

And Kyle actually listens, which would surprise Alex but then the real problem sets in. There’s really no where else to sit but the bed, right next to Alex. The same bed that dips inches under Kyle’s frame, his body close enough that Alex can smell the impatience radiating off of him. Like a dry heat, the musk of the desert, the sun rebounding off the terrain in wave after wave-

Kyle strips off his already too-tight button down, leaving only his cotton white undershirt, bared shoulders and collarbones.

Alex swears under his breath. Pretends to look only at his phone for the next hour until help arrives.


End file.
